Crawling In My Skin
by MorraHadon
Summary: Will Graham's days are full of darkness and designs he cannot escape. This day, he wakes from the darkness, anticipating Jack Crawford's phone call. He has borrowed his imagination and could call upon it as he pleased. But until then, Will is left to his own devices, and how he uses them and copes with the darkness at bay.


**I missed Hannibal's finale due to my bad internet, but I was all mused up to watch it, so I wrote a one shot in it's place waiting for a link of it. I'm now going to watch Red Dragon. So this is, Crawling in my Skin, otherwise known as Will Graham Has a Nice Day. **

**I do not own Hannibal or any of it's contents you recognize. If I did own it, there would be little to no plot, and no one would watch it.**

* * *

The darkness surrounded him, as it did the night before. It was different, every time but it felt as real as the daytime he walked in. The howling of dogs was heard in the distance but never reached the ears of Will as he stood alone in a field. Was it the field near his home? The darkness and the fog at his feet was similar, the house behind him was the same house, but it wasn't his. There was something different about this house, about his land that he could not pinpoint. The grass was not wet beneath his feet as it should be, nor was there the sounds of the nocturnal creatures piercing the night with their cries.

Will was suddenly aware that he was moving, his feet were taking steps forward but he couldn't control where they took him. It was like this every night, he was brought to a destination he couldn't control, and did things his heart was appalled by. Were Will able to change the parameters of this darkness, he would. Instead he continued to be dragged by his feet, accepting the fate he was brought into.

Minutes, hours may have passed by, but to Will it felt like seconds. Seconds before he was nearly thrust forward by a harsh stop. In front of him stood a tiny female, long dark hair, bright eyes with an inquisitive face; Abigail Hobbs. His arm reached out towards her, outstretched for her to take it, to lead her backwards to safety, but instead it reached for her in panic, as she was pulled back to the blade of a knife.

Dead arms, pale as night and sickly as any human held her there, to the sharp sting of the blade, arms wrapped per cautiously around her. Will wanted to look into her eyes, tell Abigail it was going to be alright, he would safe her, but instead he looked to the lifeless eyes of her attacker. The face of the man haunting his every moment held his daughter, threatening to slice her neck and take her life. The gun was raised, where it came from, Will couldn't explain. But it was ready to shoot, for her safety. To protect Abigail.

It didn't. A sharp gasp came from her as hr body flew forward before slumping back onto the antlers that pierced her skin. Behind her was no longer her monster, her father, but rather the animal which represented him. Everything about him, and Will and Abigail. Taking her life and standing behind her as his antlers left her body dropping it to a slump on the grass.

Will ran to her, kneeling to her side to cover the wounds, but she refused. She shoved him away with fear in her eyes as he moved away. That was when Will looked down. Not to see his own form, but the dead skin and lifeless body of the monster, the creator of this horror.

He had become his nightmare Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

* * *

The ceiling was the next thing his vision caught sight of. The ceiling of inside his house. At first Will could not be sure. Had he lost time again? How long had passed since he stood in the field? With the word field crossing his mind he shot from his lying position and sat upright. Grazing his hands along his arms, his face and skin. Alive, his, not Garrett Jacob Hobbs. The only thing he found was sweat, and his usual overwhelming senses overriding his body's ability to slow his heart rate and calm his breathing.

In moments like this Will thought of Hannibal. His calming presence, how he could lean on him, his paddle. Be reminded of the real, of the now and have Hannibal hold him down and never let him forget who he is. Little people understood the reliance Will had on him, Jack wouldn't understand. Alana wouldn't understand. They did not have to deal with the darkness every waking hour, only to sleep and have the darkness manifest. Hannibal may have understood it, he called he and Will alike. It was why they protect Abigail.

She was so young, had seen horrible acts and dealt with too much. She was still a child, but she had the experiences few would ever comprehend. It was why Will and Hannibal could reach out to her. Will was haunted by the fear of becoming her father, that by shooting him Will would begin to sink and fill the existence Garrett Jacob Hobbs left behind. Every time he looked at Abigail, he felt the possibility of it. But he would not run from that fear, he would face it. Hannibal would face it, Will would face it, because Abigail faced it.

Minutes had passes as Will sat upright in his bed, he looked to his phone. Nothing. The object remained silent. He knew though, Jack would call, bring him in, have him peel apart the humanity in Will and have him look upon a murder and become the designer. He would call, but Will was going to occupy himself until then. Remind his subconscious, and his conscious mind, that he was Will Graham. Will Graham, not Garrett Jacob Hobbs.

* * *

This was ritual. The dogs all surrounded him, panting and whining, waging their tales with the occasional bark. They jumped on the furniture to get over each other, the one to get closest to Will in hopes he would feed them next. Gentle eyes looked upon the animals. Will found solace in his dogs. They provided a sense of calmness and serenity which people failed to give each other. Will knelt to the next bowl and poured the food, and the swarm to eat it first began all over again.

The water had been topped up the night before, he remembered that. So Will moved towards his kitchen, looking around to see what he could make. His own ritual began as he made the food, and ate it along with the dogs keeping him company. Many would run over to him as they finished, wagging and smiling wide open mouths, proud for their actions. He felt the physical sensation of a smile. It was faint to the human eye, but his dogs could always see it. And it made them happy. So it made Will happy.

He pushed himself from the table and moved to the middle of the room, kneeling himself on the ground and finding his hands moving across the smooth fur of the animals. Scruffing up the sides of their faces, and wrapping his arms around the larger ones. Some would lick him, some would rub against him, pushing to play, and Will would push back. Pulling at the ropes they brought to him, stroking the ones whom were simply content laying near him.

The phone gave no ring. The sounds came from the barks and happy sounds of the dogs, and the occasional faint sound of laughing from their owner. Just happy playing for first thing in the morning. Not something Will often got, so he savored this moment.

* * *

By the time they had settled down, a few of the larger dogs remained rowdy. Perhaps they needed more energy expended. Will's senses remained on high alert. He looked consistently to his phone, waiting for Jack. Jack had borrowed his imagination, he could call upon it as he pleased. As he walked to the table, he put on his jacket, zipping it up and putting the phone on an inside pocket, just in case.

The larger ones of the pack seemed to understand where they were going, and moved towards the door. Will trusted these ones enough to run with him and not wander off. If they did, he simply would call them, and they would return. He wasn't just their owner, they trusted him as he trusted them. It was a friendship, and Will wanted to run with his friends. The simple ones at the least.

The fresh air hit his face, and Will took in a deep breathe, the cool air filling his nostrils and flowing through him to his fingertips. He glanced to his companions, "You ready?" They made a specific whine in response, "Yeah, you're ready."

And off they went. Foot after foot, stomp after stomp. Running was another ritual. Will didn't often get to do it, not as often as he liked at the least. His steps were followed by the quicker steps of his dogs. Trotting happily beside him, less on their minds then Will felt he ever would experience. He could still close his eyes for a second and see Garrett Jacob Hobbs, he could see Abigail, he could see everything. But today, Will just opened his eyes again, telling himself running his path was all that mattered.

He could feel his energy gleaming down to a more reasonable level, and with that his mind settled from hopping thoughts and lit up the darkness, even for a little while. Running used to make him happy, at some point in his life. Will could not recall it just yet, but it made him happy in his youth. He usually felt old, but today, Will hoped that happiness could reinstate itself somehow, make him feel the twinge of happy again.

So he ran faster, his dogs gaining speed to catch up.

* * *

The woman at the front desk recognized Will. As usual she wore the same weary expression whilst looking at him, many did. It no longer bothered Will as it once did. It people were on edge around him, it was alright. Will was on edge around himself. Once again, Will thought of Hannibal. The feeling of being less on edge around him, as his soothing voice spoke to him, bringing out the feelings and his thoughts. But he was not here for Hannibal, he was here for one person.

"Will Graham, I'm here to see Abigail Hobbs."

She typed away as she nodded. "I see, and Mr. Graham are you planning on making an excursion outside today as you did last time?"

A nod was his response.

"Alright, . Go on ahead to see her, just check out the time when you leave and sign Abigail back in."

The walk to Abigail was the same. Full of worry. Would he look upon her bright face and see Garrett Jacob Hobbs? Would he see the stag which killed her in his darkness more times then he wanted to see? Abigail was hard to read. She was smart and cunning and knew how to respond to the world around her even when they expected her to crumble. She was a survivor, as Hannibal put it. Will couldn't help but wonder, was he a survivor? Or was Will simply crumbling into the darkness, and soon his hold on the edges would break?

His panic had risen, feet wanting to turn and run back. But instead they moved forward, and before he could stop himself, he said her name as he saw her. "Abigail."

Her small body turned to face him, that bright face. Expression hard to read, but Will could see enough to know it wasn't a negative one. "Will! I didn't expect to see you,"

"Crawford hasn't called me in, so I thought you would enjoy the fresh air with someone else." There it was. Her face presented Will, with a smile.

* * *

Their footsteps matched. Exactly the same, speed and space between steps, the same foot. They remained in sync. In their hands they held what Abigail had asked for; Ice Cream. She so rarely got it before, and she wouldn't dream of being allowed it now in her normal days. Will wouldn't refuse. It was her treat, Abigail had wanted it, and she deserved the opportunity to have it. "I slept better last night. Some of the other girl's make a lot of noise at night, but I didn't lie awake for hours like I normally do."

Will's gaze flew from her face to her hands to his own and back again. Some days he was better with eye contact, others he wasn't. Again, Will thought of Hannibal. "You look like you had sleep, you look much better then usual."

Abigail smiled, but Will did not see it. They sat together on a bench, children running by, laughing and screaming as other kids Abigail's age walked by whispering and giggling, watching the boys, boys flirting with the girls. "One of the girl's has a brother." Her voice was quiet, but he heard her.

This time he looked more directly towards Abigail. "A brother?" His tone was knowing. He understood that tone in her, he heard in in many females.

"He usually comes to visit her on the weekends, he just sits there with her, some days he can get her to talk, others he can't. But he always stays there, happy to be where she is."

"He sounds like he loves her very much."

Abigail looked at him directly, bright eyes, bright face. The opposite of how he saw her in the darkness. "He does, it's sweet really. He talks to others there too,"

"You?" Abigail could read the slight smirk Will held, and looked away.

"Yes. Me sometimes too. Some of the girls want to get out for a day, get our nails done maybe, they want me to come. Have a girl day, they say it may impress him," Abigail continued to go on. About having a day with the girls, being able to talk to girls, get her nails and hair done in a nice way. She would talk about the boy in great detail, about his hair, the freckles on his face.

Will understood. Abigail would not admit it, but as they sat on the park bench, picking at their ice cream he understood. She had a crush, and this was her chance to talk about it. And Will would let her. The last thing Will wanted to do was spend his afternoon listening to some girl drone about a boy, but she wasn't some girl. This was Abigail. She was happy talking about him, about doing fun girly things for boys, for herself. So Will let her, and listened intently. It made her happy, and Will felt a lightness in his chest, at making Abigail happy.

* * *

Memories of his childhood reached Will's senses. He remembered taking baths as a child, and he so seldom took one since he grew up. He didn't have the time. He wasn't calm enough. He was to alert. But his phone had not gone off. Jack did not need him in.

He and Abigail had talked late into the afternoon as he delivered her back, her smiling as he did so. Will though, still felt his senses. This was his experiment. Lilac and Vanilla scents hit his nostrils, the only thing he could get in short notice. As his body sunk into the water, Will's body tensed. He waited for anything to happen, to drag him under. He couldn't relax.

Without hesitation Will sunk himself under the surface of the water, immersed under the bubbles. But nothing happened. He gasped for breath as he inhaled once more, and then he felt it. His body sinking into the tub, his eyes remained shut. To heavy to open for the moment. The water soothing his aches and pains, whether they were physical, or in his mind and senses. The water was washing away the darkness. For now at least. When he could do it, this would be his new ritual.

* * *

His bed was soft tonight. Not hard and uncomfortable. Soft and relaxing. His heart was calm, and his breathing was settle. His dogs lay around the bed sound asleep, and Will wished for the same. His mind though thought of his day.

The rituals, the steady decline of his alert senses, how the sound of his phone had not gone off once. He had waited for Jack to call, he couldn't relax until Jack called, yet he wanted him never to call so he could relax. A conundrum Will faced many days. Yet the silence from the small machine remained constant, and it was beautiful. He could put it aside and not think of it, he could forget it was there. Forget the darkness was always at bay, waiting for his next design.

Will's body turned to the side, he felt cool. No sweat, no heat, no pounding of his heart, nothing screaming at him. All day, his rituals reminded him of happiness he once felt. The thought of the happiness Abigail felt spending the afternoon with him.

As Will's mind fell further into a state of unconscious, Will had a thought. Happiness was surrounding him, and he willed himself to feel it. To feel how today was a good day; a nice day; and dare he say, a happy day.

The darkness that night never came. His peaceful day lulled him into a peaceful sleep, and no nightmares came to Will that night. And he would wake up in the morning to Jack's call, to put on the darkness like a suit; the darkness and designs crawling in his skin.

Until then though, Will could say, he remembered happy.


End file.
